Leather and Lace

by Landish, Lauren

  “Huh?” Jacob asks, confused. “She’s just a college intern. And in case you didn’t notice, you don’t need a secretary. You have an executive assistant. Me.”

  “Well now, I’ll have a secretary too. It’s not like you can’t use a little assistance from time to time.”

  Jacob shakes head. “There are protocols we have to follow. You can’t just move her up like that.”

  That’s Jacob. If he can’t get me to listen to reason, he’ll try another tactic. He learned that from me, and he is always a stickler for the rules. “Such as?”

  “Well, she’d have to be interviewed.”

  “Fine. I’ll conduct it myself.”

  Jacob shakes his head. “You can’t just interview her yourself! There are rules—” Jacob stops when he sees my expression. He should already know I’m going to get what I want. And I want her. “Fuck it . . . we’ll interview her together. Satisfied?”

  He sighs and nods but gives me a hard look.

  “Get her up here,” I growl. “Now.”

  “Now? She may have already left for the day,” Jacob reminds me as he looks at his watch. “You know, most people go home about an hour ago.”

  He’s got a point. “Tomorrow morning then. First thing.”

  Chapter 3

  Arianna

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t believe what happened today. I mean, going upstairs to deliver some papers to the top floor was already exciting, but to then be picked out of the crowd and pulled into a photoshoot with Liam Blackstone?

  Holy Fuck, that man is sex in a suit. He’s an alpha in every sense of the word, people scurrying to do what he says, not because he’s wealthy or the boss but because he has this air of dominance. I’ve never felt anything like that before, the weight of his very presence effortlessly drawing my attention and tuning my body into his.

  I’ll admit that the feeling of being pressed against him, his cock hard on my ass, was shockingly erotic. The desire and surprise in my eyes as I looked over my shoulder at him weren’t pretend like usual. And I’d had a weak moment when we’d separated where I wanted more, wanted it all, had even considered for a moment that he might be The One, considering the way he made me feel. But that’s a danger zone I don’t need to venture into . . . no sex, not now. Not until my career is on target and I find the right man, preferably in that order.

  But there’s no harm in fantasizing, and I definitely did that as soon as I got home, touching myself to the thoughts of his hands on my body, his whispered words hot in my ear, his thick cock taking my pussy for the first time.

  * * *

  The next morning, I’ve barely walked in the door before Dora is riding me. She follows me into the breakroom, and as a peace offering, I make her a coffee while she complains about the time I spent away from my desk yesterday. “I had to pull another intern from her duties to cover for you, so you’ll be returning the favor to her today and handling her tasks.”

  I nod, not interrupting her tirade as I hand the steaming mug over, made to the exact specifications I know she prefers, and she accepts it without a single word of appreciation. I turn back around to make my own cup of caffeine nectar, wishing I could have something stronger to make dealing with Dora a bit easier. I wonder if there’s an espresso machine on Mr. Blackstone’s floor?

  “Your to-do list is on your desk so you’d best get started because I expect it to be complete before you leave today. You’ll need to stay on task today, Ms. Hunnington.” Dora huffs at me with a stern look.

  “Of course, Ms. Maples. I did complete the tasks you assigned me yesterday. I apologize if the change in plans once I got upstairs left you short-handed.” It takes everything I can to apologize to her, especially since I know I didn’t do anything wrong. When the CEO tells you to do something, you do it, and she damn well knows that. But she’s getting too much evil joy out of putting me in my place.

  “Hrrmph. You’ll be staying behind the front desk today, that’s for sure, because apparently, you can’t be trusted to complete a simple delivery task upstairs.”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Someone clears their throat from the doorway and Ms. Maples and I both turn to look. “Excuse me. Ms. Hunnington?”

  It’s Jacob Wilkes, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than here. Speaking of, why is he here? The ground-floor coffee room isn’t exactly his area of the building.

  Dora looks at me with smug glee in her eyes, and I realize that Mr. Wilkes is not just looking at me. He’s looking for me, which can’t be good. “Yes, Mr. Wilkes?” I force myself to stand tall, refusing to wilt like some mild-mannered nitwit. If I’m getting fired for doing that photo shoot yesterday, I’ll be pissed since Mr. Blackstone is the one who demanded I do it in the first place. “Can I help you?”

  He scans me up and down, not creepily but almost analytically, and then sighs. “I need you to come with me, please.” He turns. “Dora, I overheard your assignment and I’m afraid Ms. Hunnington won’t be at the front desk today. Please reorganize staff as you see fit.”

  She dips her chin, and I swear I can see her fighting the urge to fucking curtsy. “Of course, Mr. Wilkes. I have several other interns who are more than qualified to do what Ms. Hunnington isn’t able to do.” The dig is sharp and hits home, just as she intended.

  Mr. Wilkes doesn’t respond, just tilts his head at me, silently telling me to follow him. And like a damn puppy, I do, following him obediently across the foyer to the elevator, watching as he pushes the button for the top floor, and down the hallway to Mr. Blackstone’s office.

  “Wait here, please,” Mr. Wilkes says after seating me in the plush leather chairs now rearranged in front of the desk. The click of the door closing sounds like a gunshot, right to the heart of my career. Dead before it even really started.

  I feel like I’m a bag of silverware. Everything is jangly as my nerves go into overtime and my mind races through possible scenarios. Why am I here? Is it about yesterday? Was Mr. Blackstone as hot for me as I was for him?

  Hold up, let’s hit the brakes right there . . . that’s only in my dreams. More likely, I’m about to get fired from my internship and lose any chance at a good reference or post-graduation job I might’ve had.

  All my thoughts black out at that, the pit in my stomach sucking down all my hopes like a vortex, and I go vacant. My eyes mindlessly float around the room and I get my first real view of the CEO’s office without the photoshoot madness. It’s spectacularly opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give a great view of the western skyline of the city. Right now, the shades are half-pulled and the sun’s starting to peek through the upper windows, but still, the view is breathtaking.

  The rest of Mr. Blackstone’s office is just as tremendous and screams him. Rich, dark brown leather chairs sit in front of a huge oak desk. Behind it is another leather chair that looks damn-near like a throne, and the walls are lined in oak bookshelves.

  After a minute that seems like an eternity, the door opens once again as Mr. Blackstone comes in, followed by Mr. Wilkes. I’m not sure if I should sit or stand, but I take the safer approach and rise, offering a hand. “Sir, you wanted to see me?”

  He smiles subtly as he shakes my hand, the formality awkward considering how physically close we were just yesterday in this very room. “Have a seat, Arianna,” he says, not turning around. “Jacob, you may go.”

  “We were supposed—” Jacob starts, then nods at the sharp look he receives. “Of course.”

  I don’t have time to wonder what that was about as he leaves, closing the door behind him. Mr. Blackstone gestures to the chair behind me. “Please . . . have a seat.”

  I smile a little and sit down. “Thank you. I hope everyone was pleased with the shoot?” I’m fishing, trying to suss out why I’m here without asking outright.

  To my surprise, he doesn’t walk to his throne-like chair to sit, instead choosing to sit in the guest chair next to me. I get a whiff his cologne, or maybe
that’s just him . . . musk and leather and spice. He smells like power.

  “Oh, yes . . . definitely,” he replies, more professional and formal in his speech than yesterday, but dancing underneath is still the cocky bastard who whispered in my ear and spent last night invading my dreams. I don’t know what the sudden change is about. Perhaps he realized he was being unprofessional and wants to reestablish that level of things.

  My confused expression seems to say it all, though, and he chuckles. “I was actually rather impressed with your ability to adapt to the high-pressured situation, roll with the punches, if you will. I wonder if you are usually so adept at doing what you’re told?”

  The compliment is tied up in innuendo, and I’m getting whiplash from his switches between professionalism and definitely not-professional. “Thank you,” I hedge. “I enjoy working at Morgan and was willing to take one for the team to insure a positive result for the photoshoot. I’m glad my work was to your liking.” And like a hot knife through butter, I use the same tactic on him as well, mixing a small hint of naughty into my formal words.

  He smirks, seemingly enjoying the back and forth play, then leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’m hiring a secretary and you’re here to interview for the position.”

  I’m pretty sure my chin hits my knee. Is he fucking kidding me? His secretary? That’s like a fifty-step leap from where I currently sit, and that gig ends in just two weeks. This could be a dream come true. This could be the start of everything. “Uhm . . . but . . . sure.”

  His smirk grows as he revels in my brain’s apparent shutdown. “Take a deep breath, Miss Hunnington. I’ll get you a drink.”

  At first, I think that he’s going to get me a scotch or something from the small minibar on the side of the room that he goes over to, even though it’s barely mid-morning, but when he comes back with a clear glass of soda water with a twist of lemon, I’m relieved. This is a real opportunity and I’d better take advantage of it.

  He sits down across from me, crossing his legs and considering me while I take a sip. “Better?”

  I nod and uncertainly hold the glass, not sure where to set it. He takes it from my hand and places it carelessly on his desk, definitely not something I would’ve ever done. “Thank you, Mr. Blackstone. I appreciate the opportunity. But might I ask . . . isn’t this irregular? To consider me for a position as your secretary when I’m a front desk intern?”

  Shit. I sound like I don’t want the job. Of course I want it! But it does sound too good to be true, which in my experience is a definite red flag.

  Liam chuckles, shaking his head. “You and Jacob. He’ll like you. As to your question, I’m the boss and I can do what I want. I make the rules around here.”

  I sit up straighter in my chair, squaring my shoulders. “Of course, sir. Can I ask why me? As far as I’m aware, you didn’t know I existed before yesterday.”

  He nods. “As I said, you handled yesterday’s situation well. Tell me about yourself.”

  I lift an eyebrow, not sure how to take this. Shit, maybe I impressed him even more than he impressed me.

  Wait. No, that’s not possible. But if this is real, I need to get my head in the game, because a chance like this doesn’t come around more than once.

  “I’m a junior at the university, with a 3.83 GPA, majoring in international business with a focus in negotiations and contracts. My previous internship was with Orion Industries, where I mostly acted as a third set of eyes on contracts, learning the appropriate wording for their various industry-specific clauses. This year, I set my sights on Morgan Inc. as my first-choice internship and was fortunate enough to be tapped for the program. I’ve been working with Ms. Maples on the first floor, primarily as a receptionist, greeting visitors and answering the phone.” I try to give him as much insight as I can while still being concise.

  He nods. “And do you feel your time here has been beneficial?”

  It sounds like a trick question. In fact, I’m rather sure it’s a trap, so I tread carefully. “I do. While the work itself has been easier than my previous internship, seeing the inner workings of Morgan has been extremely valuable and I hope to continue here with part-time employment in the fall when I return to my full course load.” Bob and weave the hazard and slam-dunk the request.

  “What was the most difficult job you ever had?” he asks.

  “This one might surprise you. Working at the Dairy Queen as a teenager.” His eyebrows lift, just as I expected. “No, really. It was my first job, so I was nervous, and I had to take orders on a headset that cut in and out randomly, ensuring that approximately every fifth customer was mad as hell by the time they got to the window. I also had to make change without a calculator, fill orders in a timely manner, and clean the ice cream machine every night.” I shiver for effect. “That thing was so gross, I could never eat ice cream again.”

  He grins. “That actually does sound pretty bad. Where do you see yourself in five years?”

  These questions seem like Interviews 101, so maybe this is actually real. I start to get more hopeful. “Maybe closer to ten, but I’d like to be the CEO of an international firm, sitting somewhere like you are now,” I state proudly.

  “Ambitious. I like it,” Liam says before grinning. “But it takes a lot of sacrifices to make it where I am.”

  I nod. “It does, but I’m willing to work hard. I have been for years and don’t foresee that changing. I enjoy the challenges of business, how each new product or contract offers something totally unique and new.”

  He strokes his chin for a moment, and a new light comes to his eyes as he gazes at me. He’s not looking at me professionally anymore, but like he did yesterday. I swear the temperature in the room just jumped a few degrees. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions that are totally off-record. If they unnerve you or offend you in anyway, you can get up and walk out that door and never come back. You’ll get a letter of recommendation for your internship regardless of what you decide. But I assure you, the last thing you want to do is walk out that door.”

  Now what in the world could have him saying something like that? It’s like he’s still maintaining power, but he’s not beating me over the head with it. I nod my head slowly, leaning forward in anticipation of where this is going. “Ask away.”

  Liam also leans forward, almost halving the space between us, and I feel the power in his body calling to me and my body responding. My pussy tingles, and I can feel my nipples starting to stiffen in my bra. “Tell me, doll, when’s the last time you masturbated?”

  What the actual fuck?! Leave! Just get up, walk out that door, and take the first elevator you can back down to the first floor. You don’t need this! my mind seems to scream. I knew this was too good to be true, and he’s just like every other asshole, even if he’s the only one to ever make my body respond the way it did yesterday. I’m worth more than this shit.

  I stand, looming over him intentionally for what I have to say. I know my eyes are blazing fury and I want him to see every bit of that fire. “That is none of your business, Mr. Blackstone. I thought this was a serious job offer, and while you may think I’m the weaker player in this little back and forth chess game we’ve had going here, I assure that I am not some silly little girl awed by your audacity and arrogance. Contrary to some people’s opinions, I’m not some whore, and I won’t let you string me along, lording some false opportunity over me when what you really want is something much baser. I’m sure you can get that elsewhere.”

  I am dying inside at the loss of what I thought was going to be a real opportunity, the hope that had already started burning sparking out in a flashbang, leaving only the smoke to obscure my eyes. I’m proud of myself for standing up to his rude question, but the tears are already burning behind my eyes as I walk toward the door.

  “Stop . . . wait.” He says the command in a hard voice, and despite my desire to get out of here, he is my boss, and on some level, I thin
k I’m hoping he’ll apologize for the gross misstep.

  I stop just shy of the door, and he gets up, stalking toward me. Unable to stop myself, I shrink and my back presses to the door. Though he doesn’t cage me in with his arms, I feel just as trapped by his gaze, frozen as he stares down at me. “Did I misread you yesterday, Arianna? Did you enjoy the photoshoot with me?” His voice is softer, kinder, though still demanding.

  I’m still mad as hell, but another side of me, the part that remembers how it felt being pressed against him yesterday and is experiencing the same buzz from his proximately now, is turned on, keeping me rooted in place. But I still call him out, refusing to back down. “You already know you didn’t misread, but your question was way out of line.”

  He dips his chin. “My apologies then.” He says the word as if he’s tasting it, like a rare delicacy he’s never experienced. I have a feeling that’s true. He doesn’t seem the type to apologize for much, so I nod back, silently and graciously letting him know I accept.

  It feels like a reset of the chess board, like he’s looking at me as something greater than a fucktoy intern to use for shock value and good times. It’s a damn good thing, too, because I am more than that. But the dance begins again, more tactfully this time.

  “Not to reignite your ire, but you said, ‘contrary to some people’s opinions’. What did you mean, Arianna?”

  I can tell he’s broaching carefully, and I respect his diplomacy for asking that way, but it’s not a story I usually share. But something makes me want to tell him. Maybe it’s the patient way he’s waiting right now, not pressuring me, even though I know he desperately wants the story. It doesn’t feel salacious but more that he wants to know my details. I let my eyes drop, not able to look him in the eye as I whisper my confession. “Not that it matters, but once upon a time back home, I went out with a boy. He bragged big and loud about things that didn’t happen. It became a thing, and at some point, folks decided ‘the lady doth protest too much’ and began to tease me mercilessly. So I took control, embraced what they thought, even if they were wrong, and used it to my advantage. It’s a part I’ve played well and often as it suited me, even if it’s not the truth.”